Can we start a fuck customers challenge? A challenge where people with morals and an already steady job apply for retail under the guise of needing a job, getting hired, and ripping into the first customer who decides the world revolves around them? Yea, we'll probably get fired, that's why we already have a steady job.
I’m in! This is the greatest idea I’ve ever heard!
“She thought Lorcan might have been trembling as she pulled back. As heat bloomed across her cheeks. But she made herself say, surprised to find her voice steady, “You don’t need to answer me now. Or ever. You could show up on my doorstep in ten years, and the offer would still stand. But there is a place for you, in Perranth—if you should ever need or wish for it.”
And then he said quietly, “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.”
Whenever I finish a work, I always feel lost, as though a steady
anchor has been taken away and there is no sure ground under
my feet. During the time between ending one project and
beginning another, I always have a crisis of meaning. I begin to
wonder what my life is all about and what I have been put on
this earth to do. It is as though immersed in a project I lose all
sense of myself and must then, when the work is done, rediscover
who I am and where I am going.
Dark eye rings and a sunken face making you look older than you are. You can hardly concentrate and it’s difficult for you to go straight.
“Come.” Carl says quietly and accompanies you to the bed.
But you don’t want to. Every time you close your eyes you see these horrible pictures in your mind.
“Carl.” You whine with a blush as he bends down to open your shoelaces.
“You need to sleep, (Y/N).” He says decisively and you follow him on the bed.
You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes while he wraps his arms around you. His steady heartbeat keeps you calm.
“I’ll not say that you’ll forget it, but it’ll be easier.” Carl whispers and kisses the top of your head. “I promise you.”
“I hope.” You mumble and look up to him. “Can we do this every night?”
Grateful you give him a soft kiss on the lips.
The whole night he holds you in his arms and when you wake up from nightmares he’s there. He knows what he has to say to calm you down and feel protected.
there’s no doubt that groups from the big 3 have advantages, coming from companies that have a lot of money and ppl who actually are fans of the company as a whole, supporting each group they make. they’re already destined to be successful. the question is, how successful can they be? how big can they get? groups that aren’t from the big 3, the question for them is, can they be successful? can they make enough money for their company to keep them? can they get a steady fan base? if they do become successful, how long can they last? groups from the big 3 don’t need to worry about the possibility of disbanding due to lack of fans/support or lack of sales n that’s just facts
A/N: Guess who found out that “Daddy” was a common term of endearment for boyfriends / male steadies during the 1920′s. We’re all thirsty AF, so drink up. This work is a part of the Fantastic Beasts & Coffee series, and I’m still accepting submissions / headcanons. :)
Warnings: Lots of implications about sex and daddy kink. Ya’ll know better than to expect any less.
notes | Newt and Tina dance at Queenie & Jacob’s wedding. It’s a quiet moment and the continued start of something that began on the docks. Title from As Long as There’s Christmas, which is what I listened to as I wrote this (wrong theme perhaps, but right feel).
title | hope [is the greatest]
two left feet and a shy smile, flushed cheeks and an averted gaze but he
scarcely stumbles when he asks her to dance and his fingers are warm and steady
where they tangle in hers when she accepts. “It was a beautiful
ceremony,” Newt remarks, clearly practiced, once they’re moving mostly
along with the music a few moments later.
Tina, it’s impossible to be anything but fond of Newt Scamander in nearly any
given situation, but here now, pressed just a little too close together on the
dance floor at her sister’s wedding, it is especially challenging. He’s all
done up in a nice suit, a scrap of cobalt tucked into his pocket to match the
startling color of his tie, both of which set off attentive cast of his gaze as
it just barely avoids catching hers, as if worried he’s being too forward. Oh
Newt, she cannot help but think, the strings of her heart tangling into tighter
and tighter knots with every moment she spends with him.
Goldstein never once fancied herself a romantic. It’s not an adjective any of
her housemates would have pinned upon her back in her school days, nor is a
term one her coworkers would have leveled at her. Detail oriented, practical,
stubborn to a fault, all these would be doubtlessly accurate but certainly not
romantic. Passionate maybe, if one was specific to mention the focus of that
passion. Yet for all that the word has never particularly been hers, she can’t
help the way the corners of her mouth seem unable to settle in his presence nor
the way her pulse always races, eager, each time Grayson comes back with
another letter addressed to her in Newt’s particularly scrawl.
much,” she agrees easily, smiling as she glances across Newt’s shoulder to
where her sister is dancing with her husband, radiant as she’s ever been,
looking like the happiest witch in the world. It’s been a long road, to get
Queenie and Jacob here, but she’s happy and Tina is happy for her. “It was
good of you to come all the way from England for it.”
this, Newt’s gaze manages to find hers, even holds it for a long and pregnant
pause but it skitters away, the warmth there fleeing to the corners of his smile
instead. “I would not have missed it for all the dragons in Europe,”
he assures, earnest in a way that leaves Tina laughing and leaning forward, to
bury the sound against his collar. Newt startles, just a second of uncertainty
as she presses in closer, before he too joins in an easy chuckle. And then he
adds, rather a bit quieter, less brave but no less honest, “Though if I
may confess, my motivations may have had a bit less to do with the bride than
with her sister.”
the closest he’s ever come to any sort of admission, in all their many letters
or his visit in the fall to deliver his book, and Tina knows by the drop in his
tone, the way he cushions the words with the full weight of expected rejection,
that it takes a great deal of effort for even this much. She feels stricken all
over again, heart wild in her chest, an echo of another day standing just this
close at the docks, Newt’s fingertips just scarcely grazing her cheek. She
hadn’t had the words then, truthfully doesn’t now, but she breathes his name
like a question and an admission and a prayer and his answering smile says more
than his mouth will likely ever manage, but it’s certainly enough for the
hand against the small of her back presses a little more firmly, thumb rubbing
absentminded circles across the fabric of her dress and they twist around just
a note behind the beat, unaware or unconcerned as the bride and groom watching
with knowing smiles of their own.
two left feet and a shy smile, flushed cheeks and an averted gaze but he guides
them with a tentative tenderness that she easily follows.
Snowbarry tomorrow, I promise! The fic I started was a bit longer in theme then I had time to post today, but I have not forgotten my promise to get back to snowbarry after NaNoWriMo
I might post something before that one, because now I’m in a dancing fic mood - and y'all know how I love those :)
(The stress of these next couple episodes motivated me. Have some Post-Twilight Ezra angst with Big Brother Zeb.)
He raised his head from the pillow, blinking groggily. Above the steady hum of the Ghost’s ventilation system, his ears could pick up restless shifting, shuffling, and murmuring from the upper bunk. The mattress creaked softly as its occupant tossed and turned.
Go say your goodbyes, jackass. [Mason shoved Coleman out of the glade, voice hard.] And remember, if you say more than goodbye, anything about this, you'll regret it more than you can imagine. [Mason watched Coleman take the last few steps back to his party alone, waited until he was around the corner, then let out a heavy breath. He looked back at Ryder, offered a wry smile.] Well. That's handled. [He took another steadying breath, then glanced behind him.] I need to get rid of the sigils. [He was so tired.] Are...[Mason hesitated. He doubted Ryder was okay.] I can walk you back to your room first if you want?
i no longer start conversations first. i no longer force exchanging of words or discussions just because i want to keep the interest of the person on the other side of the phone. i no longer spend hours swiping left in hopes of finding someone to entertain my soul.
i did this for years it seems and it wore me out entirely. i think a mark of maturity is knowing when to just let the earth spin in its natural rotation, to rise and fall with the waves and see where they take you, instead of pushing back against them.
it’s scary, i will tell you; when you find yourself alone in that vast ocean. but if you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and enjoy the company of your own steady heartbeat; you’ll end up somewhere even more beautiful than intended.
the year i spent alone was the best year of my life
I painted my nails today and thought of magic.
I thought: purple for the witching hour, for
the girl who peels off the hurts of the year
and steadies herself for the shift, the ending
that is already scuffling for a way to stay,
to spend another moment alive in our hearts.
I welcome December with a spell falling down
my lips, like water sprouting from the earth,
like the rumbling waves, like this is nature.
I try to remember if it was ever truly venom
that dripped from my tongue to the sea,
but I don’t think I know how to be that spiteful.
I should probably stop pretending to fight,
when I keep my hands clean, my words soft.
Every year I ask to bury rancor forever,
and every year I wake up to find their vines
cradling the old memories, netted through,
growing flowers in between the thorns.
I carry their colors on my fingers, chewed out,
of all the times I was not enough, when
these flaws, this bitten skin, were too much
of a weight on my back. I accept that the
polish will chip, that I will want to be kind
and fail; that this, too, is a type of magic.
It’s a little fuzzy - I need to invest in a tripod because I can’t for the life of me hold the camera steady.
But I really like how this year’s display came out!
That Diana Palmer book is actually a 2-in-1 of a couple of her Christmas novels and I’m so STOKED. I told you guys I wanted Christmas Cowboys!! I had a $5 gift card for BAM, so when I went by there yesterday morning I put it towards that pretty pretty hardcover.
You can’t tell from this photo, but the painting on the lower half of the cover? IT’S SPARKLY!!! You tip it side to side and there’s a reflective pattern in it that glitters when it catches the light. Hold on…
There! You can see it in the corner. It’s SUPER pretty.
And look what else I found at the grocery store yesterday as well! (I was under-budget on my groceries anyway and it was SO worth the $12):
There are three complete stories in there (including one from Kate Hewitt who I hear is a fabulous Harlequin Presents author)! And recipes, and notes from authors - it’s GREAT!
Wow I'm touched by the battle you've been through with your health. It touched me. I have cerebral palsy and it's damaged my feet. I love ballet but my body is ruined by my condition. Is it possible to build flexibility and strength even with a body where the muscles are in terrible condition?
Thank you. <3 I wish I could answer your question better, but in all honesty I don’t know. But I can tell you this: you’ll never know if you don’t try.
If you’ve never worked on flexibility before, I recommend physical therapy. I’m sure you’ve had lots of physical therapy in the past, but if you go again tell them your goals so they can personalize them. They will be able to help you reach strength and flexibility goals while staying safe.
Put your heart into it. Push yourself, but listen to your body. Be gentle with yourself when necessary. Take it slow but steady. It’s a never ending process to perfect the art, but you can grow so much more than you ever thought possible.
Faith sat criss-crossed on his bed with the bottom of his bong pressed down on his legs to keep it upright and steady as he slowly took a hit. The smoke filled his lungs and the sensation was enough to keep his mind focused on something other than the thoughts that would race through his mind. He was aware of the other participant in his room, so he pulls back and exhales the smoke. It leaves a familiar calmness he’s felt many times, and he passed the bong and lighter towards Kieran. He almost forgot about the music playing in the background from his stereo.
Normally this would be weird, but he’s become alright with the other. He didn’t completely mind his company most of the time, and it was probably best he hung out with him a little more. He was dating his best friend after all. “This is one of the best strains you’ll ever come across, mate.” He stated with a lazy grin, leaning back on his bed to look up at the ceiling. It wasn’t decorated or anything– he’s still yet to even do anything with his apartment besides getting the basics.